


Dear Jim

by Gyptian



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, POV Spock, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Queerplatonic Relationships, resolved emotional tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 18:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gyptian/pseuds/Gyptian
Summary: The final will and testament of Ambassador Spock, Son of Sarek, of the House of Surak, section 15.6.8, personal message to James Tiberius Kirk, at the time of writing Captain of the Starship Enterprise."I urge you, if you and Spock have found what I had hoped you will, a friendship to rival that of my Captain and I... Do not let it languish as we did. Acknowledge it for what it is and take the steps we never made."





	Dear Jim

**Author's Note:**

> The part where I project all of my feels onto Kirk and Spock after reading about older queer folks calling their significant other a good friend and never, ever labeling themselves, I still had to write about Spock Prime's death, and then it got wildly out of control. So, happy LGBTQIA Pride, whenever you celebrate it this summer, remember to respect folks' labeling and be sensitive to what they might go through, especially when it may not be obvious. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Leonard Nimoy, for being made of pure awesome. 
> 
> All flaws and weaknesses are mine, and I'm in the market for a beta reader for K/S fic, if you're interested.

“ _The final will and testament of Ambassador Spock, Son of Sarek, of the House of Surak, section 15.6.8, personal message to James Tiberius Kirk, at the time of writing Captain of the Starship Enterprise._

 

“ _Submitted at the Government Office for Civil Affairs, unnamed main settlement, New Vulcan, stardate 2259.25. Sent from the Government Office for Civil Affairs, Shom-Sfek, Confederacy of Surak, on stardate 2263.09._

 

“ _..._

 

“ _Dear Jim,_

 

“ _An old Vulcan must prepare for the moment he dies. It is only logical, after all._

 

“ _If you have achieved with my counterpart a similar relationship to that I shared with my Captain - and I sincerely hope you have - then you are smiling right now. Good. That is how I wish for this letter to be read. A death at the end of a long and fulfilling life is an occasion for joy as much as grief._

 

“ _In good time, several personal items will find their way into your hands. One of them is a necklace, containing the final message I received from your counterpart before he went missing in action. In my old age I have become sentimental. I find I cannot bear to see it destroyed and so I pass it on. Perhaps you will keep it, perhaps not. Forgive me, my friend, for leaving that duty with you._

 

“ _I also wish to pass on the story of what preceded this last point of contact between two old men. I hope that sharing the memory will prevent the replication of a regret that has lingered in my mind for more than a century. But I digress._

 

“ _The best part of my life were the years I served together with your counterpart aboard the Enterprise. Our friendship served as the space in which I could at last be at peace with myself. The years before I met my Captain, my Vulcan and human selves were at war with each other. The years after, I carried the blessing of that peace with me. He taught me to see what he saw, that I was wholly and simply Spock, his friend._

 

“ _It took a long time to reconcile myself with that bond. Friendship is, after all, based in emotion, and I did not wish to acknowledge it, for it was shameful to me. I believe that it is at once more difficult and easier for my counterpart. The prominence of Vulcan xenophobia and the open grief over the loss of most of our people have wrought profound change in this... ah, let's call it this leg of the Trousers of Time._

 

“ _We spent time apart, in which I attempted to find myself, like many a young man caught between cultures. Yet it was the affection of my friends that finally let me find it, and let me explore the galaxy together with him happily._

 

“ _Life moves on, however, and we both of us were creatures of duty and it led us down different paths, even if that never changed what was in our hearts. We never felt a need to acknowledge it formally, the bond between us, even among the circle of friends who had once been the Enterprise's senior officers._

 

“ _In the end, I came to regret that. We had always thought we would reunite, someday, and travel the stars together as we had done. But then my Captain had gone where I could not follow._

 

“ _There is no loss more bitter than a dream unrealised or a deed left undone._

 

“ _I have had many friends and lovers. No one ever quite compared to my Captain. There were no words for the grief I felt in the wake of his loss._

 

“ _There are no words for that isolation, Jim. The support I received fell short, since few people realised what we had meant to each other. Even former crew thought I only lost what they did, a good friend._

 

“ _He was that, and more besides._

 

“ _If you will bear with this old man a little longer, I will not take up much more of your time._

 

“ _Jim, when I first met you in that cold cave, it brought my old heart such joy, even in the wake of Vulcan's destruction. Your existence, the thought that you are out there with my other self, fulfilling a stillborn desire I have carried with me for all these many years. Truly, a gift._

 

“ _So I urge you, if you and Spock have found what I had hoped you will, a friendship to rival that of my Captain and I... Do not let it languish as we did. Acknowledge it for what it is and take the steps we never made._

 

“ _I have sworn not to influence this universe beyond what is necessary. I hope you know me, both of me, well enough by now to smile at that as well._

 

“ _So that I leave you as I remember you, both of you, most fondly, to follow my Captain at last,_

 

“ _Your old friend,_

 

“ _Spock._

 

“ _..._

 

“ _End of message.”_

 

Kirk sat still, dimly outlined by his screen until it shut off. The lights in his temporary Yorktown quarters had long since gone dark, not sensing any movement. 

 

When he finally stood, he groaned and squinted from the sudden glare. “Lights twenty percent.”

 

He shuffled, stiff, around his desk, trailing a hand along the divider. For several seconds he hesitated at the side of his bunk, staring at the pillow he should already be sleeping on. After rubbing a hand over a rueful face, he turned on his heel and strode out of his quarters.

 

* C= *

 

“Are you done?” Uhura muttered just loud enough for Spock to hear when he removed his ear buds. A corner of his mind revelled in this renewed familiarity, her in his space, with the experience to know volume required to cross the distance between them. They had often spent the first half of nights before simultaneous shifts thus, she asleep and he working or meditating before joining her in bed so they could wake up together.

 

This night he felt none of the ease with which he usually shut down his computer. “I... at the computer, yes. I have an errand remaining, however.” To lose the energy that now paced up and down his limbs and circled the walls of his heart like a hunger-mad le-matya.

 

She did not call him on his prevarication. Likely caught the tension in his tone. Instead she turned over and drew up the thin sheet that covered her bare body, where he would wear thick pyjamas and both be comfortable. On other nights. Not now, not yet.

 

He let his legs stretch out to eat the distance to the door and halfway down the hall before it sighed close behind him. Hands clenched in fists in the dimples of his back, a parody of his usual composure.

 

Feet led an absent mind to a destination unknown until he had already arrived at it, a rec room rarely occupied, since its windows gazed squarely into the endless spread of stars, the arm very close to Yorktown's protective bubble. A desk lamp was on over a three-layer chess board, half the pieces already off the field. 

 

Spock sealed the door and observed Kirk making the next three moves, in both colours, his face hidden behind the hand his head leaned on, from the angle he approached at. He paused a step from the table, taking in the slump, the rumpled uniform, the ruffled dark-blond hair. “I do not remember this game,” he chose to say, rather than comment on Kirk's appearance, too similar to his own state of mind.

 

“When you and I started playing, I knew I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell going up against a Vulcan unprepared. So I asked the ambassador to give me the play-by-play of a few games.” Kirk picked up the queen from the top, so she could swoop down upon a pawn threatening the king on the lowest level.

 

“I see,” Spock said idly, eyes trying to recreate the game from the current configuration. Without thought, he sat down across from Kirk.

 

“He sent me the play-by-play of every game he and his Captain played over the years.” Kirk let his free hand land on the table with a slap. “He remembered every single move of every damn game they ever played. I haven't even gotten through a tenth of them.” 

 

“How many?” said Spock, curiosity and grief mixing with a strange dread creeping in at the edges, because Kirk was using the same mild voice that proposed wild, impossible solutions to some of inconceivable conundrums they had faced. 

 

“Three thousand, six hundred and fifteen.” He snorted. “And a half.” 

 

“Half,” said Spock, the rest of his mind attempting to extrapolate the frequency of games and length of acquaintance that necessitated.

 

“They corresponded, apparently, never finished their last game.” Kirk straightened up and made two more moves in quick succession. Then he punched the board off the table, pieces scattering before the spurt of aggression. “Dammit.” 

 

“You seem familiar with this game.” Spock knelt to collect pieces, leaving the board to slip out between Kirk's trembling fingers a few times before he could lift it back up. 

 

“Yeah. It's one of their later games. I played it a few times, trying to figure out who played what colour.” He smirked when Spock glanced up at him, eyebrow lifted. “Haven't figured it out yet. Their play styles were too similar by that point.” 

 

They sat back in their chairs, setting up the pieces for a fresh game with well-practiced fingers while silence reigned. Rather than make the opening move, Kirk stared at the board, forlorn, half his face in shadow, eyes dark beneath a wrinkled brow.

 

Spock felt the weight of fresh grief sitting on his own shoulders, too many crew and his counterpart besides, sometimes bearable, sometimes heavy, as now, piled on top of older, settled grief, his lost planet, his mother, his people, his mentor and the unresolved gone-and-there-again death of his Captain. “I listened to his message tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” Kirk breathed, a whole world in one word, light as a neutron star.

 

Finally, Spock stood and crouched beside him, reaching up to tangle fingers among confused strands and attempt to smooth the hair back into some sort of order. “Jim.”

 

Wounded eyes sought his. He accepted the connection with a single blink. 

 

Voice littered with gravel and words skipping over moments of silence, Kirk said, “His message. Reminded me too much of the beginning. When I had you. But I didn't. You were right there. Yet so far away. Except. Except worse. Inescapable. A longing without relief. A loss that was permanent. And all I could think. To imagine. You. Just gone.”

 

Spock bowed his head, hand slipping down to claw at Kirk's shoulder, the other one trying to find an anchor in his knee. “As your death was. Or was supposed to be.”

 

“Yeah.” Kirk sucked in a breath and then, with a little bitter note of a laugh, confessed, “Y'know, I thought, when our ship went down, all I could think was, at least we were going down together and then, when I survived, I was pretty damn sure you did too.”

 

“Yes,” said Spock, letting that confession lie fresh and naked and newborn between them. 

 

“And now I can't _leave,”_ Kirk's voice broke on the last word. “Starfleet's all convinced I got my magic Captain mojo back or some shit, but truth is, I'm just having too much damned fun to _leave you,_ for however long I get to keep you here.” 

 

Spock's head flew up and then his eyebrows did and when that still left him feeling unbalanced, he stood up so he could spread his feet and brace his arms along his back, letting them settle against the balanced core of his body as he'd been taught. “I confess I do not know-”

 

Kirk sat back with a sigh. “I'm just a  _ friend,  _ Spock and you've been with Uhura for a long time so, when this post came up it seemed like a sign of fate. Some distance for me, to get some... peace. And an opening for you, or her, or both, to grow into a command position. It ain't easy, for a couple serving together, to advance as you deserve.”

 

Kirk looked up at Spock. Spock stared down at Kirk.

 

He paused to consider which of Kirk's unfounded assumptions to tackle first. “Captain, did a request for linking our future postings ever cross your desk?”

 

Kirk blinked. “No.”

 

“Did I not tell you that I was not interested in a command of my own, and to stop forwarding me all the offers the Admirals started sending you when I asked to stop sending them to me?”

 

Kirk scratched his head. “I guess.”

 

“Did I, in fact, not assure you I was satisfied to serve as your first officer.”

 

“But you _deserve-”_

 

Spock held up a hand to interrupt him. 

 

Kirk rose abruptly to stare him straight in the eye, noses only inches apart. “And I know how this  _ goes,  _ Spock,” he said from between clenched teeth, “You're the senior officer so Uhura's career suffers when she tags along behind you, and  _ she  _ deserves to have a command of  _ her  _ own as much or more than either of us and we haven't got enough good officers to head up ships as it is and way too few women -”

 

“\- which is exactly why Uhura and I agreed _not_ to link our careers, when we discussed the possibility.” Spock spoke over Kirk's rant before he could get too comfortable in the saddle of one of his favourite peeves.

 

“...What?” Kirk seemed to have trouble processing the fact.

 

Spock shook his head, took Kirk by an elbow and made him sit down again, this time seating himself adjacent so he could anchor himself while he copped to a knot of emotions that always set him adrift when he contemplated this. “I am the member of a remnant of a people, Jim, desperately attempting to rebuild a shadow of our former society. I have chosen not to live among them for now _,_ perhaps, but one day I must return to them and marry or, at least, father children with a woman willing to raise a hybrid's offspring.” He swallowed. “I tested as fertile and the line of Surak cannot end with me.”

 

Kirk seemed thrown by this information. “I mean... I thought... Since he was there and you stayed with Starfleet...” He waved a hand. “That was it.”

 

To which Spock found himself confessing what he'd kept hidden only a few days before. “Except he  _ died,  _ Jim, and you were  _ leaving.  _ So I had already handed in my resignation.”

 

“You were just going to _leave_ her?” Kirk rubbed one hand over his mouth, frown carving the same lines into his forehead again. 

 

“I always was, when I returned to Vulcan. She did not wish for our relationship to be anything other than monogamous and on that point, too, we were in complete agreement.” Spock shook his head. “Not every relationship is meant to last a lifetime, Jim, and neither Uhura nor I were under any illusions that ours was.”

 

“But... but... you love each other.”

 

Spock raised his eyebrows and cocked his head as he usually did when agreement would mean too open an acknowledgment of emotion.

 

“So...” He shut his mouth, cast his eyes out the window at the stars. Spock let him come to the logical conclusion in his own time. “This is where I abort my human-centric bullshit assumptions, isn't it?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

They sunk into a silence more comfortable than any they'd had over the past months. It occurred to Spock that these issues had sat between them for a long time and that it might be wise to pursue his counterpart's advice, if they were to preserve their friendship. 

 

“In his message to me, the ambassador advised we pursue... acknowledgement.”

 

Kirk sighed, shoulders folding in on themselves as his thoughts turned back to the reason he'd sought refuge in a dark rec room rather than sleep in his quarters. “Yeah.”

 

“Jim.”

 

“Spock,” the admonishment was echoed, so Spock stared him down until Kirk, as the good doctor would say, cut the crap. Kirk groaned and straightened in his seat, stretching each part of his body until he could no longer pretend he was not stalling. “I... yeah... so. You're... important to me, like, way more important than a friend's supposed to be and, well.” He shrugged. “It's what keeps me steady, Spock, so trying to distance myself from it was affecting my command and yeah, well...” he lifted his chin to a point in the air over Spock's shoulder. “It seemed like a good idea to find something more... grounded.” He shook his head. “It's not so strange, to lose your orientation if you've been out in deep space as long as we have.”

 

“You are paraphrasing someone else,” said Spock. “I think you were more honest before, when you said you wished to distance yourself from me.”

 

Kirk shrugged, let his fingers mingle and rub against each other, gazing at them rather than Spock. “Yeah, well, there were several reasons.”

 

“I see.” He gave his mind one moment to center and then set out to confess his own vulnerability. “I was leaving because _you_ were, Jim.” It seemed this had not sunk in earlier, because wide blue eyes bounced up to drink in each detail of Spock's face. “The affection is not unequal.” He swallowed. “It never was.”

 

“But. I. You.” Kirk scrunched his nose up, pretending amusement at himself. “For _years_ I felt like a puppy begging for attention.”

 

“I had some trouble returning your advances,” said Spock, slipping in the turn of phrase in an attempt to make the false amusement more sincere. He was rewarded with a sunny grin. “I believe my counterpart confessed he had similar issues in the initial years of their acquiantance.”

 

Kirk was back to mashing his fingers together. “I considered it. Except, well, y'know, you had Uhura and all, so. Seemed like you were doing just fine on that front.”

 

“Except that while Vulcan society _does_ generally allow for the formation of romantic relationships, friendships are generally neither encouraged nor acknowledged,” Spock observed, dryly. “We have clan, partners and acquaintances. The Vulcan word for what is between us has not been used in centuries.”

 

Kirk scratched his head. “Well, gotta say, that's one step up from Standard, 'cause I don't think there really  _ are  _ any words. 'Friend' covers it about as well as 'acquaintance'.”

 

“Indeed. That does hamper communication somewhat.” Spock felt lighter, now that he was on more secure ground, having at least cleared the air between them.

 

Kirk rubbed a considering hand over his chin. “I got the impression that that wasn't the kind of acknowledgement old Spock was talking about, though.” He stood up to pace a circle around the table and another, then. “Listen, Spock, he was talking about how they wanted to get back together again, right? And we've just been talking about how I almost left and you almost left, and really, quite frankly, feeling more loyalty to each other than Starfleet, which we probably shouldn't tell them,  _ ever,  _ and basically, there's this whole living our lives together or apart thing going on, yes?” He clapped his hands together as if he'd presented a clear argument, rather than a muddy summary.

 

Spock, because he had become well-versed in managing Kirk's quirks, waited until the man backtracked enough to realise he hadn't actually concluded his argument.

 

Kirk's expectant spread of hands drooped, along with lower jaw, until he closed his eyes for a few seconds and charismatic invitation returned to each line of his body, with additional force. “So let's get married?” 

 

And Spock, for all of his years of Vulcan conditioning, couldn't help but blurt out, “What?!” 

 

Kirk waved his arms up and down, “Not  _ married _ -married, but like, the Starfleet paperwork which is  _ called _ , y'know, getting married rather than whatever the official bullshit word is, except like, without the ceremony and the sex and the romance.” His jaw clicked closed and he cringed, before giggling like he usually only did when high on the good doctor's drugs. “Your  _ face. _ ”

 

Spock gave serious thought to pinching Kirk's ear and giving it a good twist, after McCoy's example, but dismissed it in favour of a firm, “Jim. Sit. Explain.”

 

So Kirk said down to explain that, perhaps, if they did not wish to serve without each other, they should fill out the paperwork to make sure that did not happen. Spock could acknowledge the logic in this statement. When Kirk proposed that he appoint Spock power of attorney even ahead of McCoy, however, Spock stopped him. 

 

“This will lead to some serious speculation about our relationship, on the part of our colleagues, our commanding officers and, if they get wind of it, the press.” As well as our respective governments, he did not add, since the both of them despised the politics that came with having their missions plastered on every screen in the Federation with every Starfleet recruitment drive.

 

Kirk mirrored his raised eyebrow. “Which is why it's  _ known as getting married. _ It's the paperwork without the ceremony, as far as Starfleet is concerned.”

 

Spock shook his head. Another difference in their background, then. “Jim,  _ I am a telepath.  _ You would not simply be signing up to allow me to make decisions for you. You would give me unfettered access to your mind, until and unless you are capable of lucid communication again.” He lightly set his fingers next to the meld points on Jim's face to drive the point home. 

 

Kirk only stared back at him, shifting his head slightly until their minds did brush and Spock absorbed a whiff of amusement, exasperation, a good dollop of the glowing affection that had greeted him the few times he'd linked their minds. “Spock. You already have that.”

 

And Spock considered that, perhaps, he would never quite stop underestimating the depth of their, for lack of a better word, friendship. That, perhaps, what they had was closer to that old Vulcan word than he'd yet realised, not withstanding the fact that Kirk was an off-worlder and Spock's own parentage was mixed.

 

“Then, we should perhaps, consider this more in-depth.”

 

Which they did, after a too-short night's sleep and a shift spent outfitting the new incarnation of their silver lady. To formally acknowledge what already existed between them.

 

Kirk said with a smirk that perhaps it wasn't so odd that explorers such as they would develop a relationship outside of the norm. Spock raised an eyebrow in response. Kirk refocused on his paperwork with a smile. All was well between them.

 


End file.
